


Mycroft Watches

by LeafZelindor



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Season/Series 02 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:23:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafZelindor/pseuds/LeafZelindor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft watches, Mycroft knows. Light JohnLock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mycroft Watches

Mycroft watched.

Mycroft always watched, always observed. He was almost as good as his brother any day. He just used the information differently. Sherlock's mind had always been a mystery. Why his younger brother did anything was beyond even his skills of deduction.

He watched in amusement, as Dr. John Watson entered Sherlock's life. He'd been secretly pleased with how quickly the man had become loyal to the odd younger Holmes. It was, comforting for that matter. How quickly Watson had agreed to move in with Sherlock, how quickly he'd come to the younger man's defense. How quickly he killed for Sherlock.

Mycroft did love watching people. Sherlock never understood how he could do it. But it was so useful and an excellent way to spend his time. Watson treated Mycroft much like a superior officer, though one he could say no to. That wasn't a problem, in fact it was amusing.

And then, as Mycroft watched, he saw something new. Something he did not expect. Mycroft watched his younger brother fall in love. He watched two flatmates who refused to admit how dear they had grown to each other continue to fall deeper into that emotional tangle which Mycroft himself had never allowed. Still he watched. Oh Dr. Watson did deny things. Even when that Adler woman threatened their relationship, and she had, interestingly enough. Even when she had pointed out fully that they were involved, at least at an emotional level. Oh that had changed the game. John Watson could not keep denying how important Sherlock was to him.

Sherlock did his best to deny how important Watson was as well. He denied it, while silently proclaiming it. Mycroft himself gave Moriarty the ammunition he needed to take down the younger Holmes. He almost surprised himself with the lack of guilt he felt. Sherlock would come through to this. Mycroft watched the pieces fall into place. Sherlock came to him, eyes alight with a fire which was pleasing and unexpected. Sherlock asked for his help.

Mycroft watched as John mourned. He watched the doctor fight with himself. He watched as the man declared to the world he still believed in Sherlock Holmes.

Briefly, he wondered if John Watson would ever forgive him for his part in the deception. A deception that he saw clearly pained the doctor. 

Mycroft watched his own hands type the message that would bring Sherlock home. It was time to end their game. Sherlock deserved happiness, if anyone did. 

The reunion was, entertaining. Watson had never been as thorough about making sure Mycroft's eyes weren't in the flat. Mycroft knew exactly when Sherlock entered the living room. In fact to his amusement Sherlock looked directly at more than one of his camera's. However the younger Holmes did nothing to turn them off. He wanted Mycroft to see this.

Sherlock moved to retrieve his Violin. It sat in it's case, mostly in tune still. John had not messed with it beyond putting it away. A few minor light adjustments and then music began. A sweet melody, unfamiliar, perhaps Sherlock had composed it in his absence, in his head. It was several minutes before John appeared, from Sherlock's old room. His hair sleep tousled, he had no jumper on, but his shirt was rumpled from his sleep. The shorter man froze, eyes on the other. Then he was across the room. Sherlock lowered the violin, expecting the punch that came, bruising his cheek.

Mycroft watched his brother calmly set the instrument aside, listened to the words pouring from the exArmy Captain. Then suddenly they stopped. Hands were fisted up in fine fabric, lips where crushing together. Arms encircled the smaller form. Mycroft tilted his head back, allowing himself a pleased smile. This he would give Sherlock. It was not necessary to watch.

Later, things settled. Life returned to normal, and still Mycroft watched.


End file.
